


Sex and Violence: A Destiel One-Shot

by 1stAmndmntGirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biting, Dom Dean, Dominant/Top Dean, Domination, Forbidden Lovers, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Masturbation, One-Shot, Punching, Rough Sex, Scratching, Secret Relationship, Sex, Slapping, Slash, Spanking, Sub Castiel, Submission, Submissive/Bottom Castiel, The Sex Pistols (the title), Tie Kink, Violence, Violent Sex, mirror kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1stAmndmntGirl/pseuds/1stAmndmntGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief encounter of the fourth kind between Dean and Castiel, and yes, Soulless Sam was correct: it is indeed a "butt thing", although the aliens probably wouldn't see the allure of violent sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex and Violence: A Destiel One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This was written quite drunkenly (that seems to be my constant state when not working--call me Shurley, Chuck Shurley), and I'm too impatient to edit. If there's an issue (whether grammatical, punctual, or pertaining to continuity), please let me know so I can fix it.  
> Enjoy, and if you have requests, please let me know. I'll be able to write until I start school again, so I'm trying to get a lot done now.  
> (I don't excel at fluffy emotional pieces, but I'm good with everything else.)  
> Auf wiedersehen!

       Dean taught Castiel a new phrase, and he was pleased to hear Cas using it so well.  
       As soon as the door to the cheap motel room slammed shut behind them the former angel grabbed Dean’s package snarled into his ear, “Fuck me.” His face flushed with exertion and annoyance at the hunter’s secret taunts all day long, mixing a most potent cocktail.  
       Dean shoved him against the wall, his own ire and desire at Castiel’s impatience adding more power into his push, and the cheap motel wall caved by an inch in some places. Good thing Mr. Benjamin K. Brustped was registered here, and not the Winchesters and their resident fallen angel.  
       Castiel came back at him, throwing a well-placed fist, and Dean barely missed it, throwing his own in turn, his knuckles landing squarely against his friend’s cheekbone. He failed to catch the other fist, though, and took a hit to the jaw, his teeth clicking hard as he saw stars.  
       Castiel caught his lips with his own and grasped him hard. Biting down on Dean’s bottom lip, he drew it between his teeth and bit until the metallic tang of blood grazed the tip of his tongue.  
       Yelping, Dean slugged another fist at Castiel, but barely missed as the angel ducked, so his fist went through the cheap wall, allowing for an explosion of the white plaster dust everywhere. Coughing as he tried not to inhale it, Dean grasped Castiel’s thick black head of hair and knotted his fingers in it before he brought up his knee and smashed it into the face of his friend.  
       Castiel roared and charged the hunter, essentially headbutting him in the belly before he trampled him to the floor. Dean crashed to the cheap carpeting, thanking good sense that he was wearing his jeans and a long flannel. A cracked rib was no biggie; carpet burn was a pain in the ass.  
       Gasping for breath, Dean was only barely prepared for the angel to leap onto him, pummeling his face with those heavenly-trained fists. Dean bucked up hard and knocked the angel off, straddling him in return. He threw a fist into Castiel’s high cheekbone, and another at his mouth. Then he grasped the former angel’s head in his hands tightly, making sure he couldn’t get away. He stared down at the other man’s sapphire eyes, dilated with rage and want.  
       “Is that what you want, Cas?” Instead of letting him reply, Dean planted his lips hard on Castiel’s, forcing his his way in, their tongues lashing.  
       Cas responded in kind, kissing so hard it was almost brutal. Their teeth clicked as their tongues fought, each tasting the other’s blood, gasping and panting as if they’d just run a marathon. The scent of hot copper in the air was more of an aphrodisiac than expected, and it hurried their movements.  
       They tore at one another’s clothes like they were being timed to get naked, and Dean knew his favorite flannel just lost a button. Letting go of Cas’s bruising face, he fought at that damn trench coat, actually having to unbutton it since his now-human friend actually got cold. Taking great pains not to ruin it (but at the same time, snapping off two buttons in his rush), Dean wrestled the jacket off Castiel’s arms. He was barely able to start on the suit jacket when Castiel made a whine of impatience against his mouth, and he had to let him pull off his Metallica tee, refraining from reminding him to be gentle.  
       Their mouths mashed again, heated and hungry. Castiel’s hands ran up his chest, seeking the light dusting of amber hair. His fingertips grazed Dean’s nipples, and the hunter moaned in the back of his throat. Those calloused hands made their way across Dean’s chest, exploring and tracing the many scars he’d earned over the years. Not even ten minutes in, and they were both solid below the belt.  
       Dean got Castiel’s suit jacket off, and without removing the tie, he unbuttoned and yanked off the white buttonup Castiel always wore. He really needed to take the guy shopping, because he was wearing these things out.  
       Dipping his head lower, Dean let go of Castiel’s lips and made a trail from the corner of his mouth to his jaw and up to his ear. His tongue flicked the sensitive hollow right behind the lobe, and he grinned against Castiel’s heated skin when he groaned and ground his hips against the other man’s. Instead of giving him any sort of satisfaction, Dean planted his ass harder on the man, enjoying the hard length beneath him as he nibbled on his earlobe.  
       Castiel drew in air over his teeth sharply, his eyes bright. He sunk one hand down to Dean’s jeans and unfastened the button before sliding down the stupid zipper awkwardly. It took him a second of fumbling, but he got it and shoved his hands down his pants—front and back—to signal Dean to move his ass so he could slide the cockblocking denim off.  
       Hissing at the sensation of Castiel’s hand down his boxer briefs, Dean tilted his weight to his upper body, planting his hands on either side of Cas’s face and shifting from a sitting position to a straddling position. Trusting his balance, he sunk one hand down the other man’s chest and into the front of his slacks, unfastening the catch before he teased the tips of his fingers down his happy trail.  
       He gripped the smooth length, long and angled slightly upwards at the tip, and dragged his calloused hand up and down, tightening his index finger and thumb like a ring around its width. Using his pinkie and ring finger, he traced along the fine vein, etching a random pattern into the sensitive flesh. Whatever it was, it elicited a chuckle deep in Castiel’s chest, although it was almost instantly cut off by a gasp of pleasure.  
       “Fuck me!” Castiel ordered, more than angry at having to wait. His hair was sweaty despite the cold weather, and it plastered to his forehead.  
       Dean chuckled at his secret lover’s insolence. After falling, Castiel had gained an insatiable taste for violent sex. Dean blamed it on one of Sam’s chick-flicks called Mr. and Mrs. Smith or something. All he knew was he woke in the middle of the night to Castiel standing over him and asking some weird questions, and here they were a month later, trying to get a quick fuck in before Sam returned from a reconnaissance trip with Kevin Tran.  
       “You know better than to taunt me,” Dean teased, “because you know I can make you wait and wait and wait.”  
       Responding with a serious attempt to shove his own slacks off, the former angel snarled, smashing his lips to the hunter’s. Complying only since they were short on time, Dean removed his hand from where it was currently manipulating Castiel and pulled the packet of lube from his back pocket, allowing Castiel to shove his jeans and boxer briefs to about halfway down his thighs.  
       He assisted Cas in taking off his slacks, left bare other than a pair of forest green boxer briefs, which Dean took care of quickly. Without even a hint at his next actions, Castiel wrapped his hands around Dean’s neck and brought him closer, spearing his tongue into his mouth and forcing a response. Dean smirked into the other man’s lips and sent his tongue in to tango with the very quick-learning former angel.  
       He brought one of Castiel’s legs up and over his shoulder, a feat of flexibility as his shoulder was almost smack against Castiel’s own. Castiel groaned into his mouth, and Dean cracked a hand across his ass, hard. The sound rung out in the heated air of the room, and he received a pelvic thrust in return. He was so hard it hurt, and he couldn’t wait to slip inside that wet warmth. It was the sex equivalent of eating a freshly baked apple pie.  
       Snagging the packet of lube, he maneuvered the best he could with Castiel’s hands wrapped around his windpipe. His neck was going to bruise like crazy, but they would think of something. They always did.  
       He pulled away from Cas’s mouth and ripped open the packet with his teeth, pouring the slimy liquid onto his hand. Without wasting any more time, he found Castiel’s entrance and slipped one finger in, the groan he received making his dick ache in want. His hands loosened their grip, and Dean captured them with his free hand, wrangling them over Castiel’s head, holding them down tightly.  
       When the one finger had loosened things up, he sent in another two, a deviation from the usual one-by-one, and Cas moaned like a ten dollar whore in a mix of discomfort and arousal. He slid his fingers all around, spreading and curling them until the man under him whimpered and panted. He decided against adding a fourth because he wanted Castiel to hurt from riding him. He wanted him to beg and cry for mercy as he came.  
       Castiel tried to get his hands free, but Dean bit down on his nipple hard enough to almost bleed, and Cas yelped in reply, still struggling, but learning who was truly in charge at the moment.  
       Removing his finger from inside Castiel, he smacked Castiel’s ass hard enough to bruise, receiving another shout in reply. Wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, Dean spanked him again right as he aligned himself and thrust in.  
       “Fuck!” cried Castiel, his eyes tearing up. He jerked up to move, but Dean grasped his wrists with both hands and held fast.  
       Dean waited for a minute for Cas to settle back down. His ass was turning a nice cherry red from the slaps, and he was writhing both in pain and ecstasy. He loved dominating, and he loved the adrenaline from a fight. Fortunately, Castiel liked submitting after a good scuffle.  
       Remaining in the same place, Dean bent down and captured Castiel’s chapped lips with his own, biting the top lip in an effort to drag his mouth up. It worked, and the former angel followed his lead, leaning his face up and furiously meshing mouths with the hunter.  
       After a minute, Dean pulled out slowly before working his way back in, knowing that his thickness was a lot for Castiel to work with. He swiveled his hips once before sliding back out.  
       “Dean,” Castiel begged into his mouth.  
       Smirking again, Dean shoved home, his groan twinning the one of the man beneath him. Castiel’s ass was hot and tighter than any virgin he’d ever met. No wonder the sex was so fuckin’ great.  
       He worked at an easy pace—not too slow, and not so fast that they would come within a minute’s time. He knew Castiel was still learning how to do this, and he felt ashamed when he came quickly as a result of Dean’s hand, mouth, or riding his dick. Unfortunately Dean had a startling tendency to shoot his load like a teenager when he was with Castiel. That corrupted innocence and untainted eagerness got him hotter than a volcano.  
       Castiel’s eyes wanted to cross from Dean’s moderate pace. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to come before Sam returned, and one of the things that both he and Dean were adamant about was Sam being kept in the dark. Currently though, Castiel would have Sam watch and film their filthy encounter if he would be promised his climax.  
       Letting go of Cas’s wrist with one hand, he snagged up that ever-present blue tie and curled it around his fist, dragging Castiel’s face even closer. He needed to look into those cerulean eyes as he rode. He needed to see the exact moment Castiel broke.  
       Castiel panted and mewled as his dick lay between them. He knew better than to try and reach for it, although he tried anyway, leaving Dean to let go of the tie and slap his ass again, hard. He whimpered in reply, and Dean laughed darkly.  
       Dean adjusted the leg over his shoulder higher, straining Castiel’s muscles and opening him wider. The other leg wrapped itself around Dean’s hip, the heel digging into the small of his back for dear life as Dean stepped up his pace.  
       “Dean—I n-need to—“ Castiel tried before Dean slapped his ass again.  
       Gruff and sexed, Dean replied, “You know the house rules.”  
       As an added statement, he spanked his ass again, enjoying how red and sensitive the flesh was becoming.  
       Castiel panted, his face flushed and glistening with sweat as he simultaneously tried to hold back and reach his peak. Not just for him, but for Dean. He knew how it drove Dean crazy when he let go, and he tried to last as long as possible because of it. It didn’t help when Dean was slapping his ass and riding him like a stolen car, though.  
       Popping his hips into Castiel at an upward angle, Dean tore a cry and a ragged shudder from him as he grazed Cas’s sweet spot. Dean liked that sound, and canted his hips up again and again, drawing the same inhuman utterance from his lover each time. It was a mixture of Enochian, English, Latin, and some ancient Sumerian shit that made him pause to regain his control because goddamn that was hot.  
       When Castiel got close, Dean backed off, pulling out until there was little more than the head inside. He tangled his hand in the tie and his tongue with the other man’s, tugging sharply on one and nipping the other with his teeth.  
       Losing patience, Castiel’s hands broke free of Dean’s grasp, and he sat up, drawing Dean’s body closer as his nails dug into his back and scraped until blood welled up in little crimson beads, although neither could see, nor feel it.  
       He kissed Dean hard and fast, needing to taste every inch of him, but settling for the warmth of cheap beer, a bacon cheeseburger, and that ultimately male mixture of cedar, leather, and motor oil. It was the sexiest thing in the world to imbibe in that cocktail, especially when the owner of such a taste and smell had his eight-inch dick stuffed so far in him he wouldn’t walk right for a week.  
       The sensation of Castiel wrapping himself around him, the sound of Castiel mewling and cursing in three foreign languages, and the smell of Castiel—citrus, mint, and fresh laundry hung on a line—drove him wild. Dean was so into this, and he had no idea what to do about it. He wanted to ride his fallen angel forever, content to fuck the little cries and pleadings from those soft lips until he died, but he needed to come so badly that he felt desperate.  
       “Cas, off.”  
       Castiel didn’t understand, but he unwrapped himself from Dean anyway, feeling annoyed and so turned on he actually hurt. His muscles ached like he’d been beaten, for he’d been tensing and holding on far longer than he was usually able.  
       Awkwardly standing, Dean strode over to one of the chairs at the little table and dragged it before the closet’s full-length mirror. He sat with his knees together, his dick standing almost straight up. He motioned for Castiel to join him, and when he did, he spun him around and motioned to look in the mirror before he brought him down on his dick, sliding nicely into the bruised entrance. They both moaned at that, and Dean bit down on Castiel’s shoulder, so fucking into this.  
       “Ride me, Cas. Watch my eyes.”  
       Castiel’s head bowed, but Dean bit down hard on his shoulder, eliciting a yelp as Castiel learned that when Dean says watch, he better watch.  
       Fortunately, he was a quick learner, and when he saw himself grinding down on Dean’s pelvis before bobbing up and down, he groaned. Dean’s eyes were on his, and he felt heated. Sexy, yet shy, he wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Meeting Dean’s emerald gaze, he smiled wearily and really got to work.  
       Dean planted his hands on Castiel’s hips and led as the other thrusted back onto the hunter’s lap, needing to control the former angel’s pace. If not, he was going to come in less than two minutes, and he wasn’t content to finish the race before Cas.  
       He licked his lips and clamped his jaws down on Castiel’s shoulder again, hard enough to break the skin. Blood flowed slowly, but surely down Castiel’s shoulder and over his back and chest. Dean lapped at it before grinning maniacally into the mirror.  
       The sight of Dean’s bloody grin was almost too much, and Castiel lost his pace, falling onto his lover’s lap accidentally. He caught his breath, but not before the pain in his shoulder increased from Dean digging into it again with his teeth.  
       Humming at Castiel’s misstep, Dean murmured into his ear, making sure to flick the shell with his tongue, “Touch yourself.”  
       Castiel tried to look backwards and got a slap to the inner thigh for it, sending his ass further back on Dean’s lap. “What?”  
       “Touch yourself.”  
       Face flaming, Castiel couldn’t move himself to start rocking again. “Uh,” he tried, his aching length begging for him to listen.  
       Dean’s eyes widened and he inquired, “Wait, you haven’t actually. . . “  
       Looking anywhere but Dean’s forest green eyes in the mirror, Castiel simply replied, “Uh, no.”  
       A growl came up from Dean’s chest, and Castiel looked up in alarm, unsure of what was going on. Dean simply grabbed his face and directed his eyes to the mirror as he softly kissed the back of his neck, his tongue darting out to tickle the skin before he softly bit on the skin. He sucked that bit of flesh and let go, blowing cold air onto it as Castiel shivered.  
       “Take your right hand and put it on your dick,” Dean began, so excited he was going to be the one to teach Castiel how to best pleasure himself.  
       Doing as directed, Castiel gripped his length, the strong squeeze of his hand better than he expected.  
       “Watch my eyes and do as I say, okay? Fist your hand around your dick and squeeze tight, bringing it up and back down. Every time you go up, drag your thumb across the head. Every time you come back down, twist your hand.”  
       Nodding, Castiel locked eyes with his hunter as Dean took him by the hips and started fucking him slowly at first, before he worked up to a good pace. That with Dean’s expert instruction had him hot and panting, swearing under his breath in who knows how many languages.  
       His hand, calloused and clean, slid up his length, tightening as he went. As he promised, he scraped his thumb across his slit every time, and he found that using the slightest bit of nail made his hips crack upwards. Dean only chuckled into him, their eyes glazing, but firmly locked on one another’s, sapphire to emerald.  
       Dean’s aching arms brought Cas onto him hard, and he bit the insides of his cheeks, tasting a mixture of Castiel’s blood and his own as he tried to stave off. It was too hot to see that innocent fallen angel learn how to play with himself as he, the corruptor, spat out directions as he rode Cas’s tight ass.  
       “Switch hands and watch yourself. Look at your face in the mirror. Watch your dick. Watch me. Watch me impale that ass of yours.” Dean demanded.  
       Unable to disagree at this point in his life, Castiel regrettably let go of his dick and took it up with his left hand, his eyes on the image of Dean’s length buried deep into him. When Dean canted his right hip up and into Castiel, he cried out, the feeling too much. He had to come, and soon.  
       “Dean, c-can I? Please?” he begged.  
       His lover’s only response was to order into his ear, “Trace the big vein with your fingertip, pressing hard. Then make another tight fist and fuck it until you scream. I want to see you break. I want to see what a fallen angel looks like when he loses control.”  
       Dean’s dirty talk was almost as good as Dean’s dirty mouth, Castiel thought.  
       Doing as Dean said, Castiel traced the vein, biting his lower lip as he felt the heated stare of the other man in the mirror. He connected his eyes with those of Dean and made a fist, thrusting hard and fast into it as he broke, sweaty, babbling, and flushed. His eyes were the bluest blue they’d ever been, accentuated by his reddened face.  
       Coming hard into his hand, Castiel swore “Fuck, Dean!” And speak of the devil, Dean reached up and helped milk everything from him, his fluid painting their images in the mirror.  
       “Oh shit, Cas, oh fuck!” Dean shouted as the tightening of his lover around his dick became too much. Senses overloaded, Dean’s hand gripping Castiel’s tightened and the one on his hip pressed so hard it would probably leave a permanent bruise. His hips pistoned up into Cas, hard and fast. He bottomed out inside Cas, receiving a pained groan in return, but he couldn’t do a thing about it as he let go, riding out the aftershocks.  
       He was utterly spent.  
       A few minutes later, Castiel brought his head up, his eyes still glassy. “We may need to switch motels now.”  
       Dean nodded blankly, remembering the busted walls and thinking of the mess he was so not in the mood to clean up. “Just uh, give me a minute here.” His mind was too exhausted to begin thinking of an excuse for Sam and Kevin.  
       Unfortunately, they didn’t have a minute, because the roar of the Impala made itself known, and moving at lightning speed, the men dressed, ignoring their injuries, and attempted to return the room to order before Sam and Kevin returned, their secret hopefully safe for another day.


End file.
